


Off the Coast of Baleton

by IvaHian



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dumbasses who can’t use their words properly, Hand Jobs, High Overseer Martin, M/M, Mention of Original Characters - Freeform, Post-Dishonored (Video Game), Royal Spymaster Daud (Dishonored), Sexual Content, Sexually inexperienced Daud, indoor plumbing - it’s gonna be big, it takes a few k to get to the E rating stuff, takes place in Baleton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvaHian/pseuds/IvaHian
Summary: Spymaster Daud and High Overseer Martin travel out west to Baleton for some work related things. Their trip ends as anything but work related.
Relationships: Daud/Teague Martin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Off the Coast of Baleton

**Month of Harvest, 1841, Baleton Peninsula**

The hotel room was dank and musky, and had that same ground in stench of mold and mildew that plagued the decimated half-roofed apartments of Rudshore. Daud closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled the scent that pulled him back to his days as an assassin, hiding in plain sight in the doomed blocks and alleyways of the flooded Financial District that to many was just a precursor for the end of days in their fair capital of Dunwall. 

Across the room Martin set his bag down with a dull thud atop the bedside table. He reached inside of it to rummage around for something and eventually pulled out the report Vice had given him earlier that week. Martin’s pale eyes narrowed as they skimmed the report. “Sightings along Western Corridor Number Five,” he repeated. His eyes shifted up to Daud, who stood against the wide open window with a rather unsettling view of the crashing storm below them. 

Daud rubbed his chin, roughly scratching at the day old stubble that littered his jaw. Not this shit again. “You already told me that earlier. And I told you, it doesn’t match up with Rinaldo’s report,” he said. “This particular cartel group was operating along Northeast Corridor Three. They were spotted at the fifth juncture due east of Baleton.”

“According to your men, but my men say different,” Martin droned back, voice dull as the grey skies that stretched endlessly above them. He waved his report around emphatically, as if that would further prove his point. “They caught sight of the three drug runners that match the exact description Enlai gave us.” Daud’s jaw tightened with a strained huff. 

They’d had this argument about three times on the trip out west to this city of piers and lighthouses. Daud’s Whalers reported one location of the drug runners’ sighting – Martin’s Overseers reported quite another. Which wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that each sighting was reported at the same exact time… about the same exact drug runners. One of their groups was wrong, and Daud was as sure as he was the Outsider’s eyes were black it wasn’t his. 

“Your men are wrong,” Daud stated matter-of-factly. It was obvious wasn’t it? Daud knew his men, inside and out. Knew that they were exceptionally trustworthy and would probably throw themselves into the the jaws of the great Leviathan itself before daring to lie to him. Not only that but Rinaldo was the best scout of all the Whalers, and he wouldn’t make an observatory mistake. His attention to detail was truly second to none, besides-

“Look there’s a reason our men are reporting the same runners at two different locations. I haven’t figured out why, but there has to be an explanation,” Martin interrupted Daud’s thoughts, and plopped down on the old red armchair next to the bed. He hunched over and carded a gloved hand through his hair, eyelids drooping as he stared out at nothing. He looked about as exhausted as Daud felt. 

“I trust you know one cannot be in two places at once, Martin. Not even with this-” Daud held up his left fist. “And I can assure you, those grunts are not Marked.” 

“Is Doth?”

The question came as a surprise. Daud opened his mouth, then shut it again with his brow furrowed. _Was Doth Marked?_ Now that was a good question indeed, and at this current moment Daud was kicking himself for him and Corvo not thinking to ask it sooner. He ran his fingers through his hair, and turned his back to Martin to stare out the window. The waves below repeatedly crashed against the rocky cliff on which their hotel was perched as Martin’s question ran through his mind. 

“There are… eight of us,” Daud finally announced, glancing back over at Martin. The man’s eyes widened into something sharp and contemplative, and suddenly looked much less tired.

“Eight Marked?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So there’s you, Corvo, obviously… and that witch. Delilah, was it?” Daud blinked, stunned for a second. 

How in the Void did Martin know about Delilah? Daud had never told him, and he’d bet his Marked hand that Corvo would not trust him with that information either. Had his men told Martin? No, no way would they divulge such sensitive information to any Overseer, much less the High Overseer himself. So how in the Void-

Martin smirked at whatever expression had befallen Daud’s face. He straightened himself then leaned back in the chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the arm rest. “Know of any more?” 

Daud re-composed himself, pushing away the dilemma for the moment. A question for another time, then. “That old witch on Clavering. Corvo said she was Marked.”

“Ah. Granny Rags, if I am not mistaken?” Martin asked. “I hear she tried to cook the old mob boss, Slackjaw.” Daud grinned. That bit was in fact, true. 

“You know an awful lot of unannounced details about heretics, High Overseer.” Not that Daud should have been surprised. Ever since he’d met Martin nearly eighteen years ago, the man had always made it his business to know… well, everything. And everyone. But Daud still couldn’t deny his curiosity at how Martin had come to know of Delilah in particular, considering that no one else besides him and a few of his men - and of course Corvo - knew of the witch. Eyes and ears, then.

“Yes, well. Know thine enemy, as it were.” Martin’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“Clearly,” Daud scoffed as he gazed out to the roaring sea below. In the back of his mind he wondered if Martin and the rest his Overseers had finally realized that the Abbey’s own worst enemy was not heretics, but itself. 

Daud took one final look out the window, then stalked back to sit on the bed across Martin. “Though, one must wonder why your Brothers didn’t catch her before she got the chance to boil a man to death.” Daud tried to keep the accusation from seeping into his tone, but that was always hard to do when they got into these sorts of discussions. “Surely there were people in the Abbey who knew of her heresy? Campbell must have gotten dozens of reports, especially with how close her apartment was to Holger Square.”

“He didn’t take them seriously, Daud,” Martin replied, his earlier grin vanishing as he realized where this was going. Again, his revelation was not particularly surprising – their former High Overseer was known to not take legitimate Abbey issues seriously if it did not benefit him in some way. “Most Brothers thought her sad and lonely. And tell me, how do you think we Overseers would look if we barged into some nutty old woman’s house to drag her away?”

“No worse than you already did?”

Martin was quiet for a moment. Then he chuckled. “I suppose not.” 

They sat quiet a few moments, the room completely silent save for the sounds of the storm throwing pellets of hail and rain against their window pane. It was almost peaceful. Daud would be content if they just remained as this, sitting in amicable quiescence, pondering whatever fancied them at that moment. But alas, they were here in Baleton for a reason and really needed to get working. 

“As I was saying before you derailed the conversation-”

Martin jerked his head up, his previously melancholic expression replaced with utter indignation.

“Before _I_ derailed the conversation? You were the one who had to throw in your smart ass remark-”

“Well I’m certainly glad it was me for a change, Void knows I’m getting tired of hearing such nonsense from you.”

“Oh fuck you, Daud,” Martin snapped. He sunk back into the armchair, rubbing his palm against the side of his head, eyes narrowed in frustration. 

Though Daud loathed to admit it, engaging in banter with Martin was not nearly as fun when the man did not respond in kind. For nearly ten years before the rat plague crisis, they’d waged this constant war of semantics, each man keeping the other on his toes. But the years had tarnished Martin’s silver tongue, and perhaps even a smidge of Daud’s own edge as well, so their war had apparently reached a stalemate… albeit a loose one. 

“There is me and Corvo, Delilah and Rags… not sure who else,” Daud grunted while rubbing the back of his head. Martin peered over at him. 

“Doesn’t the Outsider tell you who else there is?” 

At that Daud barked out a laugh. “You know he doesn’t, Martin.”

Martin frowned. “I don’t. Thought he might like to inform his… _charge_ of each other.”

“Why in the Void do you think he’d do something like that?”

“Dunno… so eternity is that much more amusing, perhaps?” He sat up again. “And believe it or not, I actually don’t know what he would and wouldn’t do. He appeared to me but for a brief moment in time, Daud. I figured his actual Marked got to know him more eh… intimately, I suppose.” 

“No.”

Martin waited. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“That’s it? Just ‘no’?”

“Were you expecting something more?” Daud snorted. Martin tossed his hands up. 

“Look, it’s obvious your god entertains himself by pitting his Marked against one another. Corvo against you, you against Delilah. Maybe he’s doing the same thing here?”

“It is not impossible.”

“Well, give me something more to work with here!” Martin pleaded. Fair point – he was good at making something from little more than nothing. “An indication, a hint – anything that he’s said to you over the years that could point to who Doth is.” Daud sighed as he hunched over with his elbows on his thighs, running both palms up the front of his face. 

“There is nothing, Martin. Bastard hasn’t spoken to me since the day Corvo came for me in the Flooded District.” Daud hated the sharp inquisitive look Martin had thrown his way. It reminded him all too much of the fractured relationship with his deity. “Believe me, if there was something, anything… I would have mentioned it by now.”

“Not if you hadn’t known to mention it,” Martin pressed. “He likes monologues, yes? There has got to be one at least one hint he’s dropped over the-”

“I said _no_!” 

Barely a second had passed, and Martin was staring up at Daud, wide-eyed and alarmed with his shoulders drawn back. One hand hovered slightly above the blade on his left hip, the other clenched into a white-knuckled fist on the arm rest. A moment later Daud realized why. 

He’d unknowingly shot to his feet and was towering above the High Overseer in a dangerously combative stance. In his daze of fury he had not registered the flood of Void that rushed through his veins, igniting the brand the Outsider had so kindly bestowed upon his left hand. His heart pulsed erratically, and he squeezed his eyes shut to calm himself down before lowering himself back onto the bed, a whisper of Void vanishing into the thickly saturated air. 

“No,” he repeated. Well, that seemed to push the message clear enough through Martin’s thick skull, and the man didn’t dare ask more on the subject.

****

They spent the rest of the night shuffling through more and more papers. Though Daud had slowly begun to grow into his role as the Spymaster the last two years, it didn’t mean he liked this - filing through report after report after report. His fingers itched to grasp his blade in hand once more and act. While he had not killed once in the four years since Daud drove his blade through Jessamine’s rib cage, he could not deny that the urge often resurfaced. Especially during times like this. Daud was not sure he could keep his vow if he came face-to-face with someone who truly deserved to die. 

No, Daud wanted to be out in the field with his men, reconnoitering the various trade routes that stretched across the Empire. And it was difficult to do that when he was stuck consolidating reports, planning their every next move, and well, just being the Spymaster in general. 

That was something he and Martin had in common.

Their High Overseer faced his own set of struggles when he took the red – when he _officially_ took the red, that was, under Corvo Attano. Before that, Martin had always operated in the shadows, preferring to utilize his vast network of notable contacts, and the plethora of sets of eyes and ears that were, for all intents and purposes his own, in Dunwall to stealthily maneuver his way throughout the battlefield. 

In another life, he would have made an excellent Spymaster.

Daud shook these thoughts from his head as he scoured Rinaldo’s report. “We should split up, go to the locations our men reported,” he announced over to Martin, who was dragging a finger over a map of Baleton. At Daud’s insistence he looked up and frowned.

“Why would we do that?” 

“Collect evidence of the drug runner’s presence. Verify the sightings. Scope out future locations.” 

Martin stood up tall, thoughtfully rubbing a hand over his five o’ clock shadow and shaking his head. “No… I don’t think we should.” Daud narrowed his eyes.

“Why in the Void not?”

“We have limited time here in Baleton. Another day and a half, and we head back to Dunwall. Need to spend our time more effectively.” Martin took a pencil from his pack and stared intently at his map, frustration mounting his features. “We’re not _thinking_ right now. If we were Doth, what would we do?” Daud stood up and sauntered over to where Martin hovered over his map and stood shoulder to shoulder with him, squinting down at the thing. 

“Well first thing I’d do if I were that bastard would be get a proper map,” he mused. Martin jerked his head towards Daud, his brow raised. 

“This map came from the Royal Cartographer himself. It’s dated for Timber ‘40, could that much have changed in five months?” he asked in disbelief. Daud smirked.

“Royals are wrong all the time, Martin. Come now, you’re smarter than that.”

“Well, do you have a better map?”

Daud scratched his chin. “Erm, no,” he admitted, then plucked the pencil from Martin’s fingers. “But I know the inaccuracies of this one. For one, that northeastern hilltop is not to scale. Rinaldo says the actual hill is quite larger than that, by at least a good two thousand feet. Also,” he said, while circling the harbor, “the Gulf of Baleton is shallower than this. The actual harbor does not stretch as far, but the depiction on the map is not terrible.” Daud paused to think of any other inaccuracies. “Another thing- ” Daud pressed a finger to the northern route that stretched to Redmoor “– apparently that trade route runs more inland. More northeast than straight north, and it connects to the trading juncture to the northwest of Old Lamprow-”

“Wait. Say that last part again.”

“The juncture bit? It’s to the northwest of Old Lamprow.”

“No, the trade route. It runs more inland?”

“Yes.”

Martin threw his hands up. “Well if that’s the case, then that’s why the Navy hasn’t been able to spot activity along it! By the Void, you’d think they’d know that...”

“Hm. Well, mere moments ago you didn’t realize the map was wrong. And you’re the High Overseer,” Daud pointed out. Martin opened his mouth, then sighed and shut it again. 

“No matter. Let’s just go check out this hill. It is about as good as we’ll get on this trip at least – we won’t have time to see the rest of that trade route. Has Rinaldo been to the top?” Daud shook his head.

“Not enough time last he was here,” he replied as he scooped his papers into his bag. They would leave nothing important behind while they reconnoitered. “But I doubt Doth would place men on the hill for very long – that’s too obvious.”

“Not a permanent station, no. But a running observation post, that I could see,” Martin countered, folding up the map and sliding it carefully into his own bag. “He’d want all eyes on that trade route. I imagine it’s his primary corridor for operations in Northern Gristol, since he’d want to stay out of major cities.” Daud nodded. It made sense. Finally the two of them agreed on something. 

“We leave now then,” he declared as he swung his rain coat around his shoulders, casting a glance out to the rapidly darkening sky. 

“Aye.”

****

Rinaldo had been right – the hilltop was at least twice as high than what was depicted on the map. One might even call it a mountain. Traversing up the thing in the cold and rainy black of night had been a son of a bitch, even more so for Martin than Daud, as evidenced by the priest lagging behind for the majority of the trek. Needless to say, both men were thoroughly soaked and exhausted by the time they trudged back to the hotel room.

Once they stumbled through the door, the two of them set to rapidly peeling off their wet outer garments. Martin motioned for Daud’s rain coat. Shimmying the damn thing off his broad shoulders proved a harder task than Daud originally anticipated, but he finally managed after a few brief moments of struggle and tossed it over to Martin, who hooked it next to his own dripping coat, then squatted to light the fire place.

“Well, that was certainly helpful,” Martin announced, fiddling with his sticks of flint and steel. “If we wanted to get hypothermia, that is.”

Daud tugged at his soaked gloves as Martin struck his flint and steel together. Damn, wet leather was a bitch to deal with! He already knew this of course, but in their haste to get out the door this fact had slipped his mind. This and the fact that they’d found exactly jack shit on their little crusade was not making for a pleasant evening.

“Don’t pull so hard,” Martin drawled out as he tried and failed once again to light their fire. Daud could hear the smirk on his face. “Just… gently peel ‘em off. Use some of that finesse you’re famous for.”

“Why don’t you concentrate on that fire?” Daud retorted, but there wasn’t much heat to his words. In spite of how pointless this whole trip ended up being, in spite of the futility of their midnight mountain trek, he couldn’t deny that it felt good to take a break from Dunwall, no matter how short it was. 

He also couldn’t deny that being here with Martin made it better.

They’d blown off so much steam trudging up and down that mountain, that Daud figured that at this point they were both too tired to actually argue. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung the thing on the bed post, and was now down to his bare white undershirt. It clung to him like water on a fish, strongly emphasizing his broad chest and shoulders with the plethora of heretical tattoos that twisted their way down his torso. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Martin stealing not-so-subtle glances at him, and Daud smirked despite himself. 

“See something you like?”

At that Martin jerked his gaze back towards the firewood - “nothing you have, that’s for sure” - and Daud chuckled to himself. Perhaps he’d stay in his undershirt a tad bit longer. 

There was a _click_ and the firewood ignited, flooding the dark room in a cast of brilliant orange. Martin stood up, pellets of water dripping down his face and body. When he turned towards him, Daud could see in the light that his skin had managed to grow even paler than its usual shade. His lips had also turned an ugly hue of blue. 

“By the Void man, get out of those clothes. Remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah…” Martin trailed off bashfully. Daud snorted.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Yes, well ah… you tend to remember being thrown over the side of a ship.” 

“I imagine so,” Daud laughed, and Martin fell quiet again. He stood there wiggling his fingers while staring at Daud, which kind of made the situation that much more amusing. Except Martin remained silent for quite some time, his signature pondering expression etched across his pale features. Now, this could indicate any number of things, but at this precise moment Daud suspected the man was running a potential decision through his mind. A suspicion confirmed by the sly smile that slowly twisted Martin’s lips as he stepped towards Daud. 

Daud knew what this meant, too. He knew it before the smile and the heavily lidded gaze that overtook blue eyes, before the light brush of fingertips against Daud’s biceps, and before the gentle press of Martin’s lips against his. 

Daud figured he knew all of Martin at this point.

The priest smelled of rain and wet leather and grass. A nice earthy combination that Daud rather enjoyed. He was so lost in it he barely registered his own hands gliding up Martin’s chest and neck and spine, then half wrapping around each side of his windpipe, thumbs brushing against cheekbones that jutted out a bit too much. Daud pressed his lips firmer against Martin’s, kissing him back with more fervor than was perhaps acceptable for an assassin of his standing, but he really didn’t give a shit. 

Most tragically, breathing became necessary and the two finally pulled apart panting. Daud hadn’t even realized his eyes had closed when they fluttered back open. Martin was gazing at him with some loose and unfocused expression, lips slightly parted. They were still blue. 

“Your clothes. Off.” The words came out hoarser than Daud intended. Martin laughed, a quiet and gentle thing that made something warm and hazy flutter low in Daud’s belly. Something that was becoming alarmingly common the more they shared these calm and private moments together. 

“So forward of you,” Martin chided softly. Daud tried to make a face, but found he didn’t have much heart for it. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Daud swallowed hard but it was difficult, like stuffing cotton balls down his throat. He opened his mouth to try and reply with something clever but his words were immediately swallowed by another kiss, this one fiercer than the last. Martin’s fingers were pressed into Daud’s hips, pulling him closer as he mouthed up along Daud’s jaw, eventually latching his teeth lightly around Daud’s earlobe. Now that… that was a pleasant feeling, and a low hum rumbled in Daud’s throat as he screwed his eyes shut, letting his hands fall to Martin’s lower back. 

“Keep… doing… that,” he found himself mumbling against Martin’s cheek. The man chuckled and continued to lightly scrape his teeth along the bottom of Daud’s ear. The sensation sent a warm pleasurable feeling shooting up Daud’s spine, and he let out a frustrated huff when Martin released his ear with a small wet pop.

“I think this would be better on the bed,” Martin breathed. 

That balmy sensation that had settled at the base of Daud’s skull vanished, and he immediately pulled away from Martin’s grasp. He wasn’t – he didn’t – he wasn’t sure where this would lead if they took things to the bed. Standing up seemed to guarantee some sort of boundary that Daud hadn’t even thought to establish before. 

The expression on his face must have reflected that trepidation, for Martin noted it immediately and quickly backed away with his hands up. “Or not, if you don’t want to-” 

“No, it’s fine,” Daud interrupted, roughly rubbing the back of his neck. He suddenly felt very cold. The undershirt plastered to his skin reminded him that they were both still wearing soaking wet clothing, and he motioned to it. “Let’s just dry off. Get warm.” Martin nodded and Daud went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Once inside, he placed his palms on the counter and stared into the mirror.

The face that stared back was tired, old, and pensive. Large dark bags hung underneath his eyes, and his earlier day old stubble had grown into a two day scruff. Fuck, he really needed to shave. A shower too. But most importantly, he needed to figure out whatever… whatever was going on between him and Martin. Daud groaned as he ran his fingers down his face, then back up again. 

Fuck. 

After all this time… why Martin? In all his years Daud had – he’d never been interested in even entertaining the notion of a lover. Is that what he and Martin were to each other now? The Heretic Spymaster and the High Overseer – lying in bed together! What sort of imbecility was this? Daud had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Nearly eighteen years he’d known this son of a bitch and had never – not until now – felt a damn thing for the man. 

Or had he?

Daud squinted as he tried to recall if he’d ever even remotely liked Martin back then. He supposed it didn’t matter at this point – they were here now and had to make do with this bed, both literal and figurative, they’d made together. 

Daud sighed and roughly rubbed his eyes. No point deliberating more of this crap tonight, he thought, and so he finished stripping off the rest of his damp clothing and reached into the shower, turning the handle with a rusty squeak. He waited for the mirror to steam before stepping in. 

The water was smooth and warm as it hit his face and cascaded down the rest of him. He tilted his head up and just stood there, lost in a swirl of thoughts, reveling in this brief moment of quiet relaxation that had been afforded to him. It was the first one he’d had in months, and he wasn’t in a huge hurry to finish it. He rolled his shoulders, twisted his back, shook his legs out, anything to loosen the tension that had grown deep inside him these last few days. By the time he switched the water off he felt significantly better.

Daud toweled off and dressed quickly, pulling on his standard khaki trousers and white button-up, leaving the last few buttons undone to give himself some air. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times, just enough to make it somewhat neat, and pushed the bathroom door open.

Martin – luckily the man had had enough sense to finally change into some dry clothes himself - sat at the small round table they’d been planning on earlier, raking his eyes over that inaccurate map of Baleton and a report next to it. He’d reduced the fire to to a mere glow, and his brow was furrowed in concentration, but when Daud stepped out of the bathroom and plopped down on the bed, Martin tilted his head up. 

“I was re-reading Windham’s report…” he trailed off.

“Enough. Let’s just go to sleep,” Daud grunted, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back against his set of pillows. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, trying desperately to shut his mind off, to follow his own words and fall asleep. But as tired as he was, he found he could not drift off. He grumbled and pulled his hands from behind his head and turned to peer over at Martin, whose forehead and eyelids dipped alarmingly as he skimmed his report.

“Martin.”

“Hm?”

“Bed.”

“Oh. Uh-”

“ _Now_.” 

Martin sat still for a moment, and Daud could practically hear the gears turning in the man’s head. But eventually, he saw reason and folded up his map and reports and slid them back into his bag, closing it with a light click. He rose to his feet and sauntered over to the side of the bed, eyeing it while scratching his ear and frowning, but not laying down. Daud rolled his eyes. 

“By the Void man, just get on the damn thing.” Outsider’s eyes, why did he insist on making things so complicated? After a moment Martin finally did as he was told and pulled back the comforter and slipped underneath it. He laid back against his own set of pillows, bringing his hands around and folding them on his stomach. He too stared up at the ceiling for quite a while. Daud rolled onto his side and peered at his companion.

“What’s wrong,” he asked. More a statement rather than question. Martin’s gaze shifted to Daud.

“What? Erm, nothing-”

“If you’re worried about earlier…” 

“I’m not,” Martin insisted a little too quickly. Daud grunted. Martin’s ability to lie had deteriorated considerably over these past couple of years - at least, his ability to lie to Daud had. Then again, Daud always prided himself in being able to see right through Martin.

“Well good,” Daud said, turning his head back towards the ceiling. And there they laid, a generous amount of space between the two of them despite the narrow confines of the bed. Daud wished they could both just _go the fuck to sleep_ , but as the night wore on it became obvious that that was not likely to happen. 

“How have things been?” Martin’s casual drawl interrupted Daud’s train of frustrated thoughts. Apparently he too surmised the futility of attempting to sleep. Daud raised an eyebrow.

“In regards to what?” He asked.

“Just in general,” Martin said quietly. “With your men, your job, with… everything, really.” Daud laughed.

“Are you really trying to talk jobs right now?” He asked, rolling over on his side. “What’s really on your mind, Martin?”

“Nothing! I was just curious.” Martin replied with a shrug. But he promptly negated that answer by also rolling over on his side to stare intently at Daud, who, weirdly enough, had little doubt Martin held genuine concern for his well-being. But Daud also knew that Martin had this annoying tendency to circumvent the actual question on his mind with something entirely different. 

“Go to sleep,” Daud commanded. “Come on now, your forehead almost hit the table earlier.” In the dim glow of the room Daud could still make out the grin on Martin’s face.

“Can’t sleep,” he lilted. “Sing me a song or something.”

“You’re gonna get a lot more than that in a second,” Daud growled, albeit half-heartedly. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-”

And there it was.

“If you wanted _that_ you should have just said so,” Daud replied sharply. The sheets rustled as Martin quickly sat up.

“No that is _not_ what I wanted Daud, I was trying to make a joke-”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job,” Daud shot back as he rolled onto his back to resume staring at the ceiling – something that was quickly becoming a favorite past time of his. Martin made some noise of vague frustration and shook the whole bed as he dropped back down on it with more force than was necessary, rolling on his other side to face away from Daud. 

Not this bull shit again. Daud glared at the ceiling, intent on remaining as pissed off as possible. Maybe that would help him sleep? Besides, whoever said partners should not to go to bed angry with one another was full of crap. Being angry was a natural part of of life. If you weren’t angry, something wasn’t right. If you weren’t angry-

In his haze of thoughts Daud did not not fully register his arm snaking its way around Martin’s thin waist, or the slight flinch his body as he pressed his chest against his back, nor the interlacing of fingers and legs, nor the slight catch of breath from Martin’s – or maybe it was his own? – lips. 

They laid there together in the glow of the dying fire, this time having closed the distance, fitting perfectly together like pieces of a puzzle. Daud pressed his lips to the back of Martin’s neck. His skin was surprisingly cool, and contrasted nicely with the heat radiating from Daud’s own body. Martin’s fingers tightened around Daud’s as he swallowed with what appeared to be a great deal of difficulty, and Daud pulled him even closer to his chest, where his heart began to thrum rapider. 

“Hello,” Martin managed to choke out after a minute. Daud buried his laugh into the soft hairs on the nape of his neck. 

“Good evening.” Daud brought his hand up to run along the priest’s hip. 

“It’s morning,” Martin breathed out.

“Whatever. Good morning, then.” Daud dragged his lips down Martin’s cool neck and shoulder, relishing the slight shudder that greeted him. “You’re cold.”

“Nothing new,” Martin laughed a tad breathlessly as Daud hummed low against his shoulder blades.

“Let me warm you.”

Martin immediately rolled over to face Daud once again, the tips of their noses mere millimeters apart. Daud could not quite read his expression, but that was okay - a little ambiguity in these types of situations was warranted, in Daud’s opinion. 

Martin pressed his palms lightly against Daud’s chest, slowly grazing them up his collar bone, neck, and cheek. Daud felt the press of soft lips against his own once more. His eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his own broad arms around the entirety of Martin’s lither frame, returning the zeal of the kiss in kind. And how could he not? Martin was a great kisser, though Daud’s myriad areas of expertise did not usually extend to such things. Even so, he was not stupid - good kissing is good kissing, after all. 

“By the Void Daud, I can hear you thinking from here,” Martin mused as the two separated for a brief moment of air. His palms lay flattened against Daud’s chest, which was rising and falling far too rapidly for the cold blooded assassin’s pride. He opened his mouth to shoot off a retort of some sort, then found that to be utterly pointless. And so he did nothing more than yank Martin towards him, swallowing the surprised yelp he made with his own greedy kiss. 

That was apparently all the permission Martin needed, and so finally the man expressed with his lips what he could not - or would not – with his words as his hands left Daud’s chest to tangle their way into his hair. After a particularly sloppy kiss, he pulled his lips away from Daud for but a moment, then reacquainted them with his ear lobe. The resulting throaty grunt came as a surprise to Daud himself as that earlier pleasurable sensation retuned, oozing its way up to the base of his skull once more. 

“Mmgrh,” he half growled, half groaned. His hands traveled down Martin’s spine and eventually came to to rest on his ass. Daud gave the firm muscle an experimental squeeze, which only made Martin’s hands tangle tighter in his hair. Daud squeezed his ass (and damn what a nice ass indeed) even harder, and rolled his own hips against the front of Martin’s trousers. 

Fuck… this was nice.

It wasn’t until Martin’s strangled gasp that Daud realized he was hard as a rock, desperately grinding his cock between the other man’s thighs. The heavy warmth that had settled between Daud’s own thighs was very nice indeed. He focused on that feeling, letting it melt away the apprehension that had slightly resurfaced once they started kissing again. 

“Daud…” Martin rasped as Daud continued to rut against him, not stopping to give him time to adjust to the quickening pace. 

“Mm?”

“I-”

Daud cut him off by flipping him onto his back, hovering above him in somewhat of a daze. His hands were pressed on either side of Martin’s head as he mouthed along the thick stubble that lined his chin, taking great pleasure in in the sweet whines this elicited. Daud grinned against the soft flesh underneath Martin’s jaw, right where his carotid artery thumped rapidly along as if to the beat of a drum. 

Daud hadn’t expected the excitement that jolted through him when Martin palmed the outline of his cock through his trousers, and nearly choked when those same fingers cupped his balls in a light grip. Fuck – _fuck_ – he was _definitely_ not used to those kinds of touches, and he jerked his hips forward into Martin’s grasp. Martin’s other hand came to rest against Daud’s cheek.

“Want more?” He whispered huskily in Daud’s ear, giving him an emphatic squeeze. It seemed that Daud had lost the ability to form coherent words, and all he could manage was a jerky nod. Martin released him for just a second to spit into his hand, and immediately went to unbutton Daud’s trousers to slide his hand under them, down past the wiry nest of hair on his groin, finally wrapping his fingers around the entirely of Daud’s cock. 

Daud let out a surprised grunt – Martin’s hand was _cold_ against his rather warm dick, which really shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it did not take long for that to subside as Martin worked his fist up and down, up and down, the sweet friction a wonderful shock to Daud’s system. 

“Anyone ever do this to you?” Martin breathed as he thumbed the head, and holy _fuck_ that was –

“Not like this,” Daud rasped as he fucked desperately into Martin’s hand, his whole body quivering in the pleasurable haze of it all. 

“Got something better for you-” and the next thing Daud knew, he was on his back with Martin above him. 

The light of the smoldering embers danced beautifully in Martin’s pale eyes as he hovered over Daud, running his tongue across his lips – but the sight was lost as soon as his fingers wrapped around Daud’s cock once more. Martin bent down to press a fierce kiss against his lips, and when Daud opened his mouth to return it, Martin, more ballsy that Daud had ever given him credit for, plunged his tongue into it, eliciting another shocked groan. 

By the time the two pulled their lips apart, they were both thoroughly panting, Daud gripping Martin’s ass while he rolled the tip of his cock around in his palm, using the few beads of precum that had oozed from the tip to ease the friction. Daud tilted his head back, moaning unashamedly as he writhed from the sensation. His ass and the base of his cock tightened in an impossibly warm feeling, getting tighter and tighter until-

Martin whisked his hand away. _Goddammit-_! Daud’s head shot up as he glared at the man.

“What the fuck?” He growled, though a fair bit of whiny desperation leaked into his words. 

“Had to make sure you were liking it,” Martin drawled, and for a wild moment Daud actually considered throwing the man off of him and punching him in the jaw.

“You’re not very perceptive are you?” He retorted hoarsely. “Look what you’re doing to me-”

“I _told_ you, I have something better for you. If you want it,” Martin added after a second. Then he leaned down and brushed his lips against Daud’s ear, letting his voice drop to something low and husky. “Tell me Daud – you ever let anyone suck you off before?”

Well, then. Daud was not expecting that question. His cheeks warmed as he scrunched his eyes shut. Was he actually _embarrassed_ right now? He’d nearly just blown his load on Martin’s fingers, and now was the time he’d let dirty talk sway him? Utter ox shit, that. He wasn’t some terrified school boy, he was a grown ass man and-

Martin chuckled and kissed Daud’s ear, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. It was an infuriatingly affectionate gesture, and Daud could not resist pressing his lips tenderly against the salt on Martin’s temple. 

“Go for it,” he murmured, and felt Martin’s lips twist upward against his neck. 

“As you say…” 

Their little phrase that started off as something sarcastic had somehow transformed into genuine, affectionate words they’d utter to each other when the fancy took them… and right now it had Daud’s stomach flipping somersaults as Martin slowly shimmied his trousers off bit by bit. He hung them over the bed post and set to work unbuttoning Daud’s shirt with deft fingers, somehow managing to ghost over the dark hairs on Daud’s chest. He shuddered beneath the slight touch, and shrugged up to his elbows to allow Martin to peel off the shirt entirely.

Daud did not even have time to process the fact that he, the Royal Spymaster, was lying down completely naked beneath the High Overseer, or that this was probably breaking at least a hundred different Imperial government rules, or that this was _Teague fucking Martin_ of all people, when Martin’s tongue flicked against the tip of his cock. Daud let his head fall back once more, his eyes fluttering closed as Martin explored the rest of him with his hands. One teased the base of his cock, the other traveled lower to lightly cup his balls in his hand.

It went on like this a few moments, Martin’s sweet rhythm building up that same warm between-the-legs tightness from before. By the Void, it felt good. Impossibly good. The room was cool and completely silent save for the obscene sounds of heavy breathing and mouth against flesh, and that spun Daud’s head nearly as much as the actual sucking. His breath was coming out in tense shallow strokes, and caught on a particularly throaty moan when Martin took him in one hand and licked from his taint and up his balls, along the thick vein that stretched from the underside of his shaft, and up to the tip. Did it again, and by that time Daud’s head was thrumming wildly as he gripped the sheets to his left and right. 

And when Martin took all of him into his mouth, Daud cursed and turned to grip his shoulders instead, and if Martin had not splayed his hand flat against Daud’s groin, he probably would have choked him from the resulting thrust of his hips into Martin’s mouth.

“Shit, Martin – _fuck_ \- ”

If Daud was not already impossibly hard before, he sure as hell was now. His hands trembled as he gripped Martin’s shoulders harder, digging his nails into the bony flesh, and if this was causing the man any pain he sure hid it well. Daud’s hand fell to the back of Martin’s neck as it bobbed up and down the shaft – a delightful feeling, really, and only got better as Martin quickened his blessedly smooth pace, the resulting sucking noises only lending to Daud’s pleasure. 

By the Void, his mouth was so warm and wet and _tight_.

At some point Martin added a hand in tandem with his sucking to pleasure what could not fit into his mouth, wrapping his fingers around the base of Daud’s cock and applying glorious pressure, then took him deeper into his throat. And oh, that was – that was good right there. The sweet friction of saliva combined with the pressure of his hand about made Daud lose his mind right then and there.

“Martin,” he gasped, body trembling, voice hoarse and throaty, foreign even to him, “fuck, Martin I’m close – I – _fuck_ \- ” and then Daud was writhing and coming in hot spurts inside Martin’s warm and tight throat, grabbing the hairs on the back of his skull in a hazy stupor as he pumped into it with relentless abandon. 

And Martin took it _all_ , leaving Daud as nothing but a shivery, panty mess of post orgasmic bliss as he slowly withdrew his lips. Daud whined – fucking whined – when they passed his sensitive tip, releasing it with the softest and most obscene pop Daud had ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Stars danced in front of his eyes as he furiously tried to blink the world back into focus. When the room came to, he managed to blearily lift his head – and was greeted by the rather enticing sight of Martin swallowing his semen. A mix of drool and cum dribbled down his chin, but Martin wiped it away with his forearm – and licked that bit off too. He then bent down to lick away the mess that had been made all over Daud’s groin, sucking away each and every last bit of semen and saliva that had been left behind. 

The whole thing was otherworldly, and Daud had to concentrate hard to ensure that this had not just been one insanely wild dream. But after a second, he realized that yes, the whole thing had been quite real, and that Teague Martin had in fact just sucked him off, and that yes it was better than what Daud imagined it would be. And yes, Martin was still hovering above him, panting breathlessly, normally neat hair a wild sweaty mess, a wistful expression splayed across his features. 

He did not object when Daud grabbed him and pulled him in for the fiercest kiss he’d ever given in his whole fucking life – not that he had a whole hell of a history to go off of, but the passion must have been felt loud and clear by Martin, as he returned the kiss with a desperate vigor of his own that had Daud feeling dizzy again. 

“How was it?” Martin murmured against his lips.

“You really have to ask?” Daud grunted, turning his head to kiss Martin’s sweaty brow.

“Just wanted to be sure,” Martin laughed, as he pressed his forehead against the juncture of Daud’s neck and shoulders. The incredible warmth of the gesture had Daud’s arms snaking their way around Martin’s body, pulling him closer into a tight embrace.

“It was unexpected,” Daud said after a moment. Martin raised his head to meet Daud’s eyes. 

“I suppose so,” he agreed, though his grin had faded a bit. “I know… I know you’re not normally into these things. As long as you enjoyed it. I just want to be sure is all.”

“You will recall that I told you to go ahead,” Daud pointed out, grinning himself. 

“I know,” Martin repeated. “As long as you didn’t feel pressured...”

Daud chuckled. “You insult me. Have you ever known me to give into pressure?”

“No!” Martin said quickly. “But this is a bit different, you know.”

“I don’t see how,” Daud replied with a shrug. He felt Martin’s body warm slightly in his arms. 

“Well… we’ve never done this before. I don’t want things to change between us.”

Daud guffawed at that, his chest rumbling deeply against Martin’s. In all his years, he’d never taken this silver-tongued bastard to care about such things, to be so… sentimental. It was a staunch departure from his usual character, and had Daud questioning if that was actually the worry on Martin’s mind. He reached under Martin’s shirtsleeves and ghosted a hand down his knobby spine, taking great pleasure in the lovely tremble of damp skin beneath his fingertips. 

“Well it’s a little late for that,” he said, a tang of humor skirting his tone. “There are lines you can’t uncross, as you know. I am probably the most famous heretic in the Empire, and I just ejaculated into the High Overseer’s mouth for Void’s sake.”

That… did _not_ garner the desired reaction. In an instant Martin’s body tensed rather conspicuously in Daud’s arms. He swear he felt it go cold, a suspicion confirmed by the way Martin pulled from his embrace, an uneasy look in his blue eyes. 

“Ha. Right then.” He swallowed audibly and just sat there hunched over on the bed, staring ahead, all merriment having seeped from him like water from a drain. And just like that the mood shifted completely. 

Daud frowned. He’d meant to joke around, bring a little lightheartedness into the situation. Voice the irony of it all, of them being together. The leaders of two warring groups: Whalers versus Overseers. Though, that war had died down significantly since Martin took office, practically to the point of non-existence. After all, there was a new merry band of heretics strutting about the Empire – Doth and those who served him, and they found themselves a common enemy of both Daud’s and Martin’s men alike. Quite possibly the only good to come of the whole situation. 

“What’s wrong?” Daud asked sharply. Martin flinched, then quickly recomposed himself.

“Nothing.” Clearly a lie, but perhaps not worth pushing at the current moment. Besides, there were more important matters needing attention.

“Then let me return the favor,” Daud replied casually, and the surprised look on Martin’s face would have been funny if he had not all but frozen up like a stone mere seconds ago.

“Ah - you uh… you don’t have to,” Martin said quickly, running a hand behind his head, that earlier crimson creeping back up his neck and cheeks. It was odd sight, for a man who’d worn whatever metaphorical mask suited his fancy over the years. Daud could not deny his delight at being the one to shatter this mask entirely. 

“Are you saying you don’t want me to?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Yes! I mean no. Ah, yes I want it but, um... ”

Daud expended some effort on a chuckle, then reached out, wrapping his arms around Martin’s waist and pulling him in closer for a deep, long kiss. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he murmured after they broke apart. Martin grinned, a wry, crooked thing. Thank the Void - Daud worried the moment had been completely ruined, but maybe it was not so. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It was all the permission Daud needed, and he gently pressed Martin back onto the bed. He kissed along the priest’s angular jawline, lips coming to rest against his rapidly beating carotid artery once more. The flesh there was warm and soft and delicate, rising and falling with each soft groan uttered from Martin’s lips, and Daud briefly considered sucking in a bruise there, then thought better of it – the white of the ecclesiastical collar would not hide such a mark. 

He hummed lightly as Martin’s hands came to rest on his hips, then rub around his lower back. His foot came to snake around Daud’s leg, and Daud was reminded that, for some reason, Martin was still fully clothed. Well, that would not do, so Daud brought his hands down to slide underneath Martin’s shirtsleeves, slowly beginning to tug it loose when Martin wrapped his hands around the assassin’s wrists. Daud halted immediately, casting a quizzical look at the man. 

“‘S a little cold in here,” was all Martin managed to breathe out. Daud grunted but relented – the cold worked funny wonders on certain bits of male anatomy, so wiser, perhaps, to leave Martin clothed. 

“As you say.”

But that of course left the matter of the actual job itself, and Daud let his hand fall to the front of Martin’s trousers, running over the lump there with a precision that had Martin’s hips jerking upwards. 

And then there was, suddenly, the matter of experience. Daud had no doubt that Martin had the ah, _fortune_ , of a wide variety of different partners as a mere Overseer, and probably even more so with the higher authority his office granted. Martin with his crimson coat and bright mind and cunning lips. A sweet talker for the history books, and he was no doubt able to convince anyone who suited his fancy to lay with him. And there must have been quite the plethora of individuals who suited that fancy, what with his vast network, both women and men alike. All who no doubt knew the art of sex and pleasure better than Daud. He hadn’t even thought to consider such a thing up until this very moment, and right now kicked himself for such an oversight. 

“Daud?”

Martin’s voice sounded hazy, far away, as he pushed himself up to his elbows and looked up at Daud, who had ceased his attentions. The look of genuine concern plastered on the priest’s pale face was, for some strange reason, infuriating. Okay, perhaps not infuriating, but – patronizing? Yeah that was it. Probably. 

Daud blinked to clear his mind, and pressed against Martin’s shoulders to shove him back onto the bed with a great deal less tenderness than he had before. He hit the pillows with a slight “oof”, and Daud resumed… whatever it is he was doing before these unfamiliar insecurities reared their ugly head. His hands moved mechanically, deftly unbuttoning the front of Martin’s trousers, whose cock sprung from the confines of the dark cloth. 

It was… surprisingly thick, and unsurprisingly pale, the tip jutting from its sheath of skin. Daud’s fingers found themselves wrapping around the base of the velvety organ in a firm squeeze that had Martin’s lips parting in a throaty groan. The noise alone sent a pleasurable shiver shooting down Daud’s spine. And though sexual ventures were not within the assassin’s vast repertoire, he found that perhaps this was not so difficult. He spat into his Marked hand to ease its stroke over Martin’s cock, bringing his fist up and down and up again, mimicking Martin’s earlier movements. 

Well, it soon became obvious that these movements were working, as Martin’s head lolled lazily back onto the pillows. His Adam’s apple jutted out towards the ceiling and his breath hitched audibly, hips bucking erratically into Daud’s fist. 

“Fuck, that’s good, Daud… just like that,” he rasped, cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. Encouraged, Daud swiped his thumb over the tip, circling over the drops of precum that had oozed from it and spreading it around the rest of the head. At that point, Martin’s labored gasps became too much to bear and so Daud lowered himself to his elbows, giving an experimental flick of his tongue over the tip of Martin’s cock, eliciting another wonderful jerk of his hips. 

Daud splayed his palm over his nest of curls, and brought the whole head of Martin’s cock into his mouth at once, spilling a stream of curses from Martin as his hips jutted forward against Daud’s lips. 

“Fuck! Daud – _fuck-_ ”

Daud ignored Martin’s croaky pleas and set to swallowing as much cock that would fit into his mouth. But it wasn’t easy – he hadn’t realized that his mouth had dried considerably, and he had to release said cock. For an awkward moment, he tried to wet his lips and tongue, swallowing over and over in an effort to do so. He managed it after a moment, but it wasn’t until he wrapped his lips around Martin once more and swallowed him near to the hilt a few times that he managed to produce the much needed saliva. Then he finally managed to achieve some semblance of a rhythm, repeating the movement again and again, starting to, dare he said it, actually enjoy this.

Martin’s hands were on his shoulders, somehow managing to keep his grip tender enough, unlike the vice Daud’s fingers had him in earlier. His moans were breathy and soft, so very soft, and Daud’s own cock hardened slightly again at the delicious sounds. He managed to steal a glance up at Martin’s face while bobbing his head up and down the slippery shaft, and oh, if the view was not the most beautiful one he’d seen in well… ever. 

The expression stretched across Martin’s face was tight, tense, yet somehow equally sensual. Eyes screwed shut, those ridiculous ears and his cheeks a deep rosy color, lips slightly parted. Gorgeous. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. 

Most unfortunately, Daud had to force his gaze away from the view and concentrate on the task at hand. His mouth was getting used to the intrusion of Martin’s rather long cock, and with every other suck, Daud managed to take it deeper and deeper into his throat, reveling in the pleasure this gave his partner, and it was not long before his nose was pressing against Martin’s groin. The musky smell was somehow intoxicating, and Daud lost himself in it again and again with each bob of his head, the world around him dissolving into a blurry haze.

He was so concentrated on all of this that it took a moment for him to realize that Martin’s cock had suddenly gone soft in his mouth. 

Daud halted his movements and just laid there for a second, awkwardly propped on his elbows with a completely flaccid dick in his mouth, Martin frozen silent above him. After a few confused moments of silence, Daud quickly released him and sat back on his knees, feeling extraordinarily off-kilter. 

“What the- ”

Martin hastily scrambled to his elbows, looking about as puzzled as Daud felt.

“Erm - ” Mart’s gaze shifted to his groin, where his cock lay flopped onto its side, just as it had been before Daud began attending to it. 

A few more moments of heavy silence passed, both men at an utter loss for words. It was rapidly becoming clear that neither of them had dealt with this sort of thing, not even Martin, whom Daud knew had plenty of years of fucking experience, and he was… he was not sure of the dull hurt feeling that began to bubble deep in his gut, and the more they sat there in stunned silence, the hotter this feeling became, and – and – was this something that was supposed to happen, why – 

“That bad, huh?”

The words forced themselves past his lips before he’d even had the time to comprehend them. Martin’s wide eyes shot up to Daud, and he blinked rapidly a few times before opening his mouth, leaving it hanging, then slamming it shut again. He jerked his eyes down to his groin, and once more up to Daud. He looked dreadfully embarrassed.

Daud forced out a bitter laugh. “If it was that shitty, you should have told me.” He could not quite contain the slight quiver of his voice, nor the acid in his tone, nor the way his fists clenched and unclenched in the suddenly biting cold of the room, and of course he was still fucking naked, he needed his clothes, fucking needed to grasp whatever dignity remained-

It wasn’t until he was off the bed and fumbling back into his trousers that Martin finally spoke. 

“I… I don’t know… I’m sorry, I-”

“Forget it,” Daud said, fighting hard to keep his tone even as he wrapped his fingers around his discarded button-up, pulling it back over his gooseflesh riddled skin, and buttoning it all the way to his throat. His back faced Martin. If he looked at him right now... “Clearly don’t know what I’m doing, do I?”

“No! No that is _not_ it, I just said I don’t know-”

“I should have realized, you’ve had so many partners and all that.”

And then Martin was off the bed himself, and that’s when Daud turned around - he would not leave his back exposed to the man like this - and he was met face to face with the contorted expression of one enraged High Overseer. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Huh, Daud? All my _partners_?” he spat. “You don’t know shit about me-”

Daud’s shrewd laugh cut through the room. “Oh I know you plenty, Martin. I reckon I’m the only one in this fucked world who actually knows you. All of you.” 

He knew he was not being fair. Martin genuinely did not seem to know what went wrong, or why his body responded the way it had, but right now Daud did not care. Right now, his anger far _far_ surmounted his reason. He was not entirely sure why such a trivial matter was getting to him like this, which only made him angrier. 

“And that’s – that’s what you think of me, then?” Martin replied incredulously, his voice shaking audibly. Daud had to hand it to him, he upheld the offended front quite well. “You think I galavant around, fucking anything that moves?”

I don’t think it, I _know_ it, Daud wanted to say as he strode to the other side of the bed where his damp jacket hung, ripping it from the post. But he didn’t know, not really. He’d assumed that, even though he’d made it a point to never assume things. He’d stuck by this principle for most of his life, and it had served him well, but right now none of that mattered. He was sure that’s what Martin did, because he was sure that’s what Martin had _always_ done, since as long as he knew the man.

Out loud, he simply said “yes.” As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Martin threw his hands up in exasperation. “Outsider’s eyes, man, are you serious?” His tone was properly livid now, and he looked… Void, he actually looked hurt for a moment there, though Daud was certain that was his imagination. “I’m the goddamn High Overseer, you honestly think I have the time and energy for all that?”

“Your predecessor sure did,” Daud bit back without thinking. 

It was a stupid comparison. Daud knew it was a stupid comparison.

He wished he hadn’t said such a thing. 

Martin stood there staring down Daud, body stiff and mouth drawn so tight his lips had disappeared completely. The fury in his eyes seemed to cut right through Daud, who opened his mouth to say he didn’t mean it quite like that-

“Ah, so the truth comes out,” Martin rasped, fists clenched into tight knots. “I’m _just_ like Campbell, aren’t I?”

Daud groaned. _Here we go._ “No, that is not what I said-”

“Campbell who, for twenty years, paved the Abbey’s road to hell, and persecuted anyone whom he saw fit? That Campbell? The same man who drugged women and dragged them down to that room of his, and fucking _raped_ them?” Martin spat. “Ah yes, I am just like him. Should have – should have realized that’s all you thought of me-”

“You are putting words in my mouth,” Daud hissed, tone low and dangerous, not terribly unlike the one he adopted with insolent Whalers. 

Martin laughed bitterly, shaking his head and wringing his hands through his hair. “Why did we even do any of this, then? What was the point?” His voice had cracked ever so slightly, just for a hair’s split of a second, but he managed to pull it together enough. 

“You asked,” Daud shot back. He didn’t dare mention that he’d wanted it too, that he’d wanted to make Martin feel good, just as Martin had done for him, and that he had apparently failed so hard at this task that they now stood here spitting words at each other. 

Martin blinked at Daud’s response, then his eyes shifted to the ground and his shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, then. I thought… I thought you wanted it too,” he said quietly. That familiar look of shame and self-loathing that Daud was slowly becoming acquainted with overtook Martin’s features again, making him look positively downtrodden.

Daud was at a loss for words at this point. This was the first time they’d even considered being intimate with one another, or at least, it was for Daud, and the results had proven disastrous. How did they even move forward from this? Just vow to never speak of it again? Yeah, that was it probably. It made the most amount of sense. 

“No harm, no foul,” Daud grunted. “It was a mistake. People make mistakes all the time.” Martin’s eyes jerked back up, and in the dim amber light of the slowly rising sun it was painfully clear that he had not thought it a mistake. 

“Right,” he said, voice slipping back into something casual. “Right then. Look, it’s morning. Let’s just – let’s pack our things. Carriage back to Dunwall leaves in an hour.”

Fuck, it really was morning already. The sun wasted no time penetrating the horizon, belying the storm that had wrecked havoc across the peninsula mere hours ago. Neither of them had gotten any sleep, which wasn’t particularly surprising. Sleep was an exceedingly rare commodity these days, but still Daud cursed himself for not using what little time they had away from the capital to catch up on it. 

They wordlessly began to pack their things. Stuffing wet clothing back into leather packs while avoiding the myriad reports and other papers inside said packs took a great deal of care and time, and perhaps more attempts rearranging than either man cared to admit. By the time they managed to complete all this they had about forty minutes to make it to the carriage station; the walk alone took thirty of those minutes. 

They strode from the room, Martin leading the way. Checkout was a blessedly quick progress, and they were out the door not long after speaking with the clerk. The rest of the walk was engulfed by complete and utter silence, each man intent on looking at anything else but each other. 

After thirty minutes, they reached the Baleton carriage station. A conductor was already there taking tickets from numerous passengers. Martin swept up the clangy metal stairs, Daud trailing in his wake, and they each handed their tickets to the conductor, whose ridiculously large mustache rumbled comically as he announced for passengers to be seated, the carriage train would be setting off now.

The only consolation was the luxury of an entire cabin to themselves. Very well, Daud rather liked his personal space, and he managed to sit on the opposite side as far away from Martin without it looking terribly obvious. But of course it was obvious to Martin, as evidenced by the way his pale eyes quickly trailed over to Daud, duly noting the distance, then casted back towards the sunny horizon.

Daud leaned back against the carriage chair with a sigh, running the events of the last forty eight hours through his mind, recalling Martin’s wish of nothing having changed between them. No matter. They were professionals, after all. A silly thing like this couldn’t upend their working relationship. 

At least, Daud sincerely hoped so as the carriage sped out back east towards the rapidly rising sun.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I’m working on this fic that’s nowhere close to being even a fraction of the way done, and this is a little snippet of some of the events that occur after the first game. Mention of original characters and plot points, so some things might seem outta context. Felt like posting this because I am desperate for more Daud/Martin content and discourse :’)


End file.
